


collared (but never tamed)

by BlackJacketsandPens



Series: packbonding [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen, also being human(oid) must be really weird for them, he loves his fracciones in his own weird way and i'll fight you on it, what is a timeline for the arrancar idefk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 12:32:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12631140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackJacketsandPens/pseuds/BlackJacketsandPens
Summary: Or, Grimmjow and his pack become Arrancar.(A bit of musing inspired by the question of why Grimmjow was Numero 12 and Shawlong was 11.)





	collared (but never tamed)

There was a shinigami in Hueco Mundo.

That wasn’t necessarily something to concern oneself with, usually. They came sometimes, like black ants crawling across bleached bones, and either fled back to their safe little world or bled out on the sand. Not something to care about.

This one, though, lingered longer than most. This one made a name for himself, one that even Grimmjow -- who avoided most other Hollows unless he was hunting -- heard it. The shinigami that came for Barragan, the skull king. The shinigami that made a Vasto Lorde bow and took his throne. The shinigami that was making Hollows stronger, better, different.

Grimmjow, for his part, didn’t believe the rumors and whispers his pack passed to him from what they’d heard. The man was just a damned shinigami, what could he do? And even if he _could_ do something, what fucking idiot Hollow bent the knee, even if it was for power? Who the hell would trust a shinigami to do anything for anyone here’s best interests?

So he avoided it, kept to the edges of the rumors with his pack and hunted. If he wanted power, he’d get it himself. He’d make himself king with his own strength, not relying on someone else. Not relying on anyone else.

But then he saw one of these new Arrancar -- he didn’t know its name or whatever, just that it didn’t look like any Hollow he’d ever seen. It was small, like him, but _human_. Or it looked human. It had a human face, not a mask, though fragments were still there. He’d heard of Hollows ripping their own masks off and getting stronger, but he thought that was a coward’s act. Tearing off your own mask...that just meant you were too scared to fight for your strength, so you maimed yourself for it instead. Stupid. But the ones he’d seen that did that didn’t look like this one, this one looked more….finished? Less rough. Like someone had smoothed out the process.

His pack was protesting when he charged the Arrancar, but he ignored them. They were his pack, yeah, but they were still weak. Weak enough to know they were stagnant and cowardly enough to ask him to consume parts of them to they wouldn’t devolve. They didn’t have the right to tell him not to do something. So he did it, he went after that Arrancar. If he ate one like this, would he finally get that next level of power he so wanted? He was getting tired of sitting around right where he was without gaining anything, just stagnating like the others no matter how much he ate. If he consumed someone this strong, then--

The Arrancar left him bloody in the dirt without even trying, and that’s when he finally had to admit that if he wanted to get stronger, wanted to be king...he had to go to the shinigami.

* * *

He had to admit, the palace that was springing up around where Baraggan’s throne used to sit was kind of impressive. Well, impressive in that it was big and stupid and ugly. Shinigami always had to make their mark on things that weren’t theirs, didn’t they? Plop this artificial nest of buildings right in the middle of the untouched desert that belonged to the Hollows. Make something where there didn’t need to be anything. All a Hollow needed was to eat; they could survive anywhere they had food. Shinigami apparently needed more than that.

“Oi!” He called, voice rough as he padded without a care into the building, claws clicking on smooth stone and making him wince and tuck his ears back. His pack followed behind, and it was Di Roy who complained about the noise they were all making first.

“It’s so _loud_ ,” he whined. “Sand doesn’t make any noise, this is _awful_. Why do they like this?”

“‘Cause they’re assholes,” Grimmjow tossed back over his haunches. “Now shut up, it’ll be quieter if you don’t run your damn mouth.”

Yylfordt snorted, but Di Roy fell silent with an almost audible air of sulking. The hall opened out eventually into a large, empty room, echoing and silent and made of the same white stone as everything else in this place. It was quiet, but...not the empty kind of quiet, Grimmjow thought. The kind of quiet that made him on edge, the pregnant calm before the storm. Like they were the hunted, not the hunters, and he hated it already.

“Boss,” Shawlong said from behind his left shoulder, his usual position -- he was sort of the unofficial second-in-command, after all, the one who actually tended to martial the others when Grimmjow could care less about planning. “I don’t like this. It feels like we’re being watched.”

“We are,” Grimmjow said. “I can sense them. They already know we’re here, but they’re too cowardly to show their faces.” He growled, raising his voice. “Fuck ‘em. If they want to play with us, they’ve got another thing coming.” Or did they underestimate him? Think he was just some delusional little pup who thought he could get an edge? Did they not think he was worth showing themselves?

He snarled and let his reiatsu flare as high as it would go. He heard the others yelp, startled, but he didn’t care. If this shinigami fuck wanted proof he wasn’t just some poser, then he’d give it. And if they still didn’t think he was worth it, then...he’d tear out their throats. See if he was worth it when they were bleeding out on the floor.

“Now, now, there’s no need for such a display,” came a voice as its owner appeared in the room like he’d always been there. Behind him, Grimmjow could hear Di Roy squeal and Edrad swear -- he wouldn’t show it if you killed him, but he had to admit he was pretty fucking startled too. He hadn’t felt anyone this _close_ \-- and this guy’s reiatsu, it was-- you’d think he’d have felt it sooner, what with how goddamn strong it was. It was heavy, oppressive, and it almost crushed his with its sheer strength. And the bastard was so _casual_ about it…

Grimmjow snarled, hackles raising. “Who the fuck are you?” He demanded. “You the shinigami that’s making Arrancar?” He didn’t look like much. A normal guy, kind of soft, even. Brown hair, glasses, a vague little smile...if it weren’t for that reiatsu, he wouldn’t have thought twice about leaping across the room to tear his face off for being such a smug asshole. But with it...he hesitated. He hesitated and he hated himself for hesitating.

“You can call me Sousuke Aizen,” the man said kindly, and Grimmjow hated that, too. “What can I call you, Adjuchas-san?”

“I ain’t gonna fucking give you my name until I get _answers_ ,” Grimmjow snapped. “I asked you if you were the shinigami that was making Arrancar. Fucking _answer_ me.”

The shinigami -- Aizen -- just kept smiling. “There’s no need for such rudeness, Adjuchas-san. I am indeed the one making Arrancar. Judging from your display just now, I imagine that you’ve come for that very reason?”

“Yeah,” Grimmjow admitted, as much as he didn’t want to. Whatever desire he’d had to get stronger, to force this guy to make him an Arrancar...it was waning fast. This shinigami’s reiatsu, his attitude, that awful smile on his face that he _knew_ was fake...he didn’t trust it. He didn’t trust it at all. But he couldn’t back out now, could he? That would be seen as weak, as cowardly. He’d come this far... “I want more power, and you can give it to me. That’s why I’m here.”

Aizen didn’t seem to react one way or the other to that, hands tucked into the white haori over his robes. Grimmjow didn’t know what that meant; was he trying to match the whiteness of Hueco Mundo? Conceal his shinigami nature or something? It was stupid. “I see,” he said. “I see no reason to refuse you, Adjuchas-san. Come.”

He stepped forward into the center of the room -- an act that made Grimmjow aware of more presences around the room, in the shadows. The ones watching...were they more Arrancar? Their reiatsu hadn’t been as well hidden, but now that he was looking...they were all strong. Really strong. He wanted that strength, but...he had a feeling, now, that there was going to be a price.

The man lifted a hand and some kind of pillar came up from the floor, and more of that heavy pressure surrounded it like a cocoon, so thick he could almost see it. He couldn’t see what was in the pillar from this angle, but he saw the others shift back nervously from the corner of his eye. “Come, Adjuchas-san,” Aizen said again. “Step forward, and I will give you the power you seek.”

Grimmjow took a step forward, tail lashing warily. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all. But he couldn’t turn back now. What was the price? This wouldn’t happen for free -- he’d known that the moment he saw Aizen. There wasn’t any way he could trust this, but he didn’t...he wasn’t afraid. He refused to be afraid. But this man, he didn’t trust. He didn’t even know what would happen with this thing, this pillar with its reiatsu so heavy and thick that the closer he got the harder it was to breathe.

“Boss,” Shawlong said, snapping him out of it and making him realize he’d stopped after only a few steps forward. “Let me go first. If I die, then you’ll know you were right not to trust this shinigami.” If he didn’t...well, Grimmjow could fill in the blanks. It wasn’t an act of arrogance on Shawlong’s part, it was...he glanced back at the other Adjuchas, before looking at Aizen and the pillar again.

“Fine,” he said, sitting. “You go first. And if you die…” He didn’t tear his eyes from the shinigami. “I’ll kill him.”

There was a laugh, loud and like nails on a chalkboard. “That fucking _wimp?”_ One of the shadows said, stepping forward slightly to reveal an Arrancar, tall and thin like one of the dead trees out in the desert, with a grin that showed too many teeth and an eye patch. “The fuck would we want a piece of trash like that among us? Don’t insult us, _little kitty_.”

Grimmjow snarled. “They’re _mine_ , jackass,” he hissed, standing and bristling. “My pack. You want me, you take them. I _don’t_ go without them.”

The tall Arrancar laughed again and stepped forward, lifting a hand. “Some pack you have. Buncha weaklings. I could kill them all in one go, right now. Then you don’t need to have _baggage_ when ya join us.”

“You try it and I’ll fucking tear your throat out,” Grimmjow snapped, shifting to stand in front of the others. He could feel Di Roy’s fear, taste it in the air, and the others were scared, too. He knew that -- he knew they were weak. They’d always been weak, and would always be. Even if they were made Arrancar, they would be weak, limited by their stagnation and the pieces he’d taken.

But that was fine. He didn’t care that they were weak -- they were _his_. He’d made them his with the fragments of their souls that he’d consumed. Parts of each of them were part of his strength, and that made them his, marked deeper than any scar he could leave. He wouldn’t abandon them. They had always been there at his back, and he wouldn’t go somewhere they didn’t follow. Not without them; he wouldn’t go without them.

“My, my,” Aizen said mildly, lifting a hand. “Your initiative is admirable Nnoitra-san, but in this case I believe it’s misplaced. Adjuchas-san has brought us five more warriors to add to our ranks -- they might not be as strong as you, but we need numbers as well as power. Our first _Números_ , shall we call them?” he smiled, and the Arrancar stepped back with a look on his face that Grimmjow knew, a look of anger and frustration that said he wanted to protest but couldn’t.

“What is your name, Adjuchas?” Aizen continued, motioning for Shawlong to step forward. He did, his spiny feet clicking on the ground, and bowed slightly -- not as deep as he ever had to Grimmjow, he thought with some smug satisfaction. Just enough to acknowledge the shinigami.

“I am called Shawlong Koufang,” he said politely. “It is an honor, Aizen-sama.” He approached the shinigami and his pillar, Grimmjow watching with claws unsheathed and eyes narrowed. Di Roy pressed close behind him, still afraid, and even Edrad scooted a little closer, the knot of them bunched up protectively. If anything happened to him…he counted nine or so of them in the shadows, plus Aizen himself. If anything happened, he’d tear through them all himself.

“Kneel, Shawlong,” Aizen said, and Shawlong knelt. The shinigami took something from the pillar -- Grimmjow realizing that it wasn’t the pillar that leaked the heavy reiatsu but something _in_ it -- and held it before the Adjuchas, and its power washed over them all. Even Grimmjow had to close his eyes at the burst of the power that spilled forth like a wave. He heard a gasp and Yylfordt muttered something amazed, and he realized his eyes were still shut. Was he that afraid of something happening to his pack? It was a strange thought -- he didn’t fear anything. All the same...he made himself open his eyes, and his own jaw dropped.

“Shawlong!” He managed. Gone was the massive white Adjuchas made of spindly bone and with the long tail down his back. A man knelt there instead, all that remained of his mask a helmet similar in shape to his old head. He wobbled to his feet and stared down at himself a moment shocked, before turning to the others. It was strange to see his face, any face, instead of the blank bone mask -- he was shocked, eyes wide, and then he smiled. A far more genuine one than what Aizen wore, and Grimmjow bared his teeth in an approximation of one back. It worked. Whatever he was doing, this shinigami, at least this part was legit.

“Do you trust me now, Adjuchas-san?” Aizen asked with that vague smile of his, glancing to the side and indicating to one of the figures -- a tall one with a weird, elongated head -- to do something, and he slipped off out of the other side of the room.

 _No,_ Grimmjow thought. _I don’t trust you, and I doubt I ever will, you fake bastard. But I’ll use you anyway._ “I trust that whatever you’re doing won’t kill me,” he said. “Aizen.”

He stepped forward, turning to the others. “You all go after me,” he said. “Edrad, Nakeem, Yylfordt, Di Roy.” The other Adjuchas nodded; they’d obey him without question, he knew that. Even if this Aizen guy apparently expected them to join him after...his pack was _his_ first. If he had to hang around this jackass in return for what was about to happen...fine. He had come too far to say no now, and especially not after Shawlong had put his neck on the line for him. “I’m ready, Aizen.”

He approached the shinigami, able now to see that the thing in his hand was what looked like a white marble, shimmering slightly, and even if he didn’t want to bow, the pressure of the two combined pushed him down. He bared his teeth in discomfort and rage, but Aizen just smiled. “Will you tell me your name, now, Adjuchas-san?” He asked.

“....Grimmjow,” he said with a growl, seeing spots behind his eyes as the marble began to glow. “The name’s Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.”

Was there a roaring in his ears? There was, and his vision whited completely as fire roared through his veins. It was hotter than anything he’d felt before, an inferno, and it left behind a power that burned in his chest and made him feel invincible. For a brief, heady moment he felt like he could take on everyone in this room blindfolded. The spots faded out of his vision and he found himself on-- on _knees?_ On his knees, squinting up at Aizen. His face itched and burned slightly, and when he tried to stand he nearly fell -- disoriented, it hit him that his shape had changed like Shawlong’s had and he looked down at himself.

Gone was the white bone, gone were the paws and tail and mask and everything he’d once been. He was almost human now, he realized with a strange twist in his chest. His body was _flesh_ now, not covered in bone and armor, pink and unfamiliar, and he lifted a paw -- _hand_ \-- to touch it experimentally, fascinated to distraction with the way the muscles moved beneath the skin, the way his fingers flexed and felt against his chest. His hollow hole was still there, cut neatly out of his abdomen, and that was enough to center him. He shook off the amazement and pushed himself on unfamiliar legs to stand. He was the same height as Aizen, now, he realized, and it was a strange thrill to stare directly into his eyes, defiant.

“Welcome to our number, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques,” Aizen said with a smile. “You are strong indeed -- you may yet earn a number among our Espada, even. Would you like that?”

It was a leading question and he knew it, Grimmjow thought. “Of fucking course I would, if it lets me get stronger,” he snarled out, his voice sounding a little different to his ears.

He wasn’t stupid -- the offer, the way this was all set up...he knew there was a price to pay for this, and with that offer Aizen had made it clear. He’d get his power alright, but to get it he’d have to stay here, have to serve. The shinigami’s reiatsu made it doubly clear that there wasn’t a choice in the matter, either. “If you give me power,” he said, inclining his head in the best bow the bastard was going to get. “I’ll be here...Aizen- _sama_.”

The honorific was spat with as much sarcasm as he could muster -- this man was not his lord, not his king. He was his own damned king. But if he got what he wanted, he’d make the overtures of fealty. And he’d make sure Aizen knew he didn’t belong to him.

He stepped aside on wobbly legs, letting Shawlong -- who was more used to walking on two legs than him -- steady him with only minimal muttered curses, and leaned on him as he got used to being upright, watching the others join him. Becoming humanoid, losing the bone armor and the mask and changing. They were all about the same size now, he noticed, lifting a hand to his face to feel for where his fragment was -- along the side of his face that itched, he found, a chunk of smooth bone and jagged teeth. Edrad was a bit taller than them, and Di Roy smaller by a good bit, but otherwise they seemed to nearly match in height. It was a nice change, Grimmjow decided, from being so tiny compared to their gigantic forms.

* * *

Once the show -- because it was a show, Grimmjow realized at some point, Aizen making the rest of them watch every time he showed how powerful he was -- was over, the Arrancar...no, the Espada? They left, leaving the strange Arrancar (whose long head was apparently some kind of really tall mask) behind to hand over piles of folded white cloth and direct them to a room to stay in.

“Aizen-sama will call you when he wants to see you,” he said quietly, with the tired air of someone used to being taken for granted. “Most likely only you, Grimmjow, if Aizen-sama wants to make you an Espada.”

“What is an Espada?” Grimmjow asked, absently fiddling with the soft cloth in his arms. It felt nice on his new human skin.

The other Arrancar shrugged. “It’s...really kind of vague,” he admitted. “Before you, there was _only_ the Espada. And Baraggan’s Adjuchas lackeys, I guess, but now that you set a precedent he might have them made Arrancar. He won’t like being shown up.” He sighed. “But I suppose it’s easiest to say that the Espada are the strongest Arrancar, the best of the best. There’s eight of us right now...it doesn’t mean much now, but the more Arrancar Aizen-sama creates the more it will.”

 _“You’re_ an Espada?” Grimmjow asked, bemused. “You’re way weaker than I am.” The other guy was stronger than his pack, sure, but not by much.

“The Novena,” the other said tiredly. “The weakest Espada, yes, but still an Espada. You’ll probably be higher than me. The ranks of three and six are empty and five and eight just got filled...” He tilted his...head? “You’ll probably be six. Four and up were all Vasto Lordes.”

“Good to know,” Grimmjow said, and his tone of voice made Yylfordt groan even as kept talking. “So one through four are the ones whose asses I gotta kick if I wanna get stronger. I’ll remember that.”

The other Espada squeaked. “Wh-- did you not listen to a word I just--”

“No,” Edrad said with a laugh. “He heard you. Boss is just like that.”

The Espada sighed. “I’ll...keep that in mind,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m Aaroniero, if you have any questions you want to ignore the answers to.”

That said, he walked away, and Grimmjow had to wonder. He had to be strong if he was an Espada, but he really didn’t feel like it. And he was so passive...did Aizen just keep him around like some kinda weird pet? Kinda cruel. Well, either way, he had given them some answers. So Aizen intended for him to be given some kinda _rank?_ He didn’t need a rank to judge his own strength, but at least it meant that he could know for sure which ones he had to go after if he wanted to get even stronger.

The room they’d been pointed to by Aaroniero was...white again. Grimmjow was starting to think Aizen was taking the aesthetic of Hueco Mundo a little too far. But at least it looked weirdly comfortable, with a few bits of white...things, to sit on probably, and a couple doors branching out from the room. Di Roy claimed one of the smaller sitting things and made a few happy noises, stretching his new legs out and wiggling his toes. “It’s soft!” He said brightly. “I kinda like this place. Look, I have feet!”

“Good for you, weirdo,” Grimmjow said with a laugh, walking by and giving Di Roy a sharp rap on the mask fragment on the top of his head like a helmet. “I’m taller than you now.”

Di Roy spluttered as the others laughed, and Yylfordt shook his head. “How’s it feel to be able to look us in the eyes now, brother?” He asked teasingly. “Must be nice.”

“Yeah, but now I have to look at your stupid faces,” Grimmjow shot back, grinning. “Man, losing your masks just made you uglier.”

“Did it?” Yylfordt asked, mock horrified. “Oh, not my beautiful face! That’s most of my personality!” He put his hands on his cheeks, but they quickly fell back to touch his hair, long and yellow, and he was quickly distracted by that. Nakeem laughed and shook his head and Edrad snorted, glancing over at Grimmjow.

“It’s weird,” he said finally. “Seein’ you guys like this. Lookin’...human. We changed a lot, and all it took was a weird little marble and some shinigami. Crazy, ain’t it?”

Grimmjow sighed, finally starting to unfold the bundle of cloth in his arms. The others had dropped theirs on the floor of their room or had forgotten they had it, but Grimmjow was curious. Upon inspection, it kind of looked like….clothes. Like what the others were wearing. That made sense, he figured. Humans wore clothes, Hollows never needed them. But Arrancar looked human, so...clothes. “Definitely crazy,” he agreed. “And now we gotta act like humans too. Wear clothes and shit.” he wondered if there would be other things different about him now. More human things. It was a little creepy, as if it would change who he was entirely.

He grimaced and shook his head, watching the others try to figure out how to get dressed or a minute before he followed suit once they got the hang of it. The cloth felt soft and weird on his skin, he had to admit, and he was uncomfortable enough in the jacket to leave it open and roll the sleeves up. The pants were fine, weird and loose as they were, but the shirt was too constricting to leave it like the others were doing, closed and with the sleeves down to the wrist.

He leaned back against the wall, watching the others talk about Baraggan and his Adjuchas, poor assholes who hadn’t even been allowed to follow their leader here. What a jackass, he thought. He’d brought his pack with him. What kind of stupid-ass leader made his people fall that far behind? Was he afraid of them or something? Idiot. If they were loyal they’d stay behind him where they belonged, no matter how much power they got. The leader was still stronger, after all.

His pack was...they’d followed him and he hadn’t even had to order it. He knew they’d be there. They were loyal because he was strong, not because they were scared of him. He’d proven his strength to them and they knew from that point that he was strong enough to lead them. Simple as that. They were weak, he was strong, and they knew it was only smart to follow someone like that. And they would, all the way here. They would be at his back.

Was it different from Baraggan? Probably. He’d heard the skull king had treated his flunkies like crap, like slaves, forcing them to bring him weak hollows to eat and lording it over them from his throne. No wonder he’d left them behind, he didn’t even give a shit, did he? Figured. He was an arrogant fat-ass, too lazy to hunt his own prey. He’d be easy to topple, Grimmow figured. Probably was weak in his complacency. Maybe he could do it now, before he’d have to fight through his stupid loyal lackeys.

He straightened and stretched, the sound of cracking bones startling him a little, and picked a room at random to poke around. One of the two doors led to another room with large windows looking out over the desert and the in-process construction of the palace, and a huge, soft thing in the center, rectangular and covered in cloth sheets. Was that for sleeping? It looked like it, and he left the door open when he left so the others could see. He was used to sleeping in a pile with them, after all. Hollows didn’t get cold, but sleeping close together meant they were close enough that no one could get one of them alone. It was habit, so he figured the others should see where to crash.

The other room was the strangest one, he decided. There was a tiled area with some kind of metal thing in the ceiling and metal things in the wall below it, sectioned off by a sliding glass thing, and another couple weird white structures. He decided he’d have to hunt down Aaroniero tomorrow and make him tell him the names for all this stuff. Maybe he’d known them as a human, but as a Hollow he’d forgotten, so...maybe the other Espada had been around long enough to relearn all this human stuff, since Aizen seemed to be forcing human behavior on the Arrancar along with their human appearances.

The thing that caught his attention most in the room, though, was a square thing on the wall, shiny and reflective. He stepped in front of it curiously and yelped, stepping back sharply when he saw a strange face in it. He blinked at it, and it blinked back, and he slowly reached out to poke the surface. The stranger did the same.

“Is this...me?” He said to himself, and watched the strangers mouth move as he spoke. It was, then. This stranger’s face was... _his_. It was weird, this proof that he was an Arrancar now. He’d seen his reflection in little pools of water around the desert, so he knew what he’d looked like as an Adjuchas, but this was-- he lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers a little again, before burying them in his hair. Hair, that was weird. It was blue, too, the same bright color as his eye, short and messy. There were marks beneath his eyes and he poked at them curiously before letting his hand drop to the fragment of his mask. The jawbone trailing along his right cheek, baring his fangs for all the world to see...it suited him, he decided, and grinned at his reflection to match it.

So this was him, now. Not the feline Adjuchas anymore, but an Arrancar. And though it wasn’t _official_ yet...he was an Espada, too. Stronger now than he ever was.

It came with a price, he knew that. A room, clothes, a place among his soldiers...the price he paid for his new strength was a collar around his neck, the leash in Aizen’s hand. He’d walked into it, and he still hated that he’d had to. But…

But even if he was collared and leashed, his freedom traded for power, he would not be tamed. Not even by Aizen. Not by _anyone_.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, why _was_ Grimmjow one number lower than Shawlong when it came to what order they were made Arrancar? It's always bugged me, so I kind of talked it out with a friend and this is what we came up with. 
> 
> That and I love the idea of Grimmjow being absolutely ??????? over being human-shaped after spending so long as a big ol' cat. He'll get used to it, probably. (He likes being tall let him live.)
> 
> Also shout-out to his Fracciones for being amazing and I love you guys (and so does Grimmjow), and shout-out to Aaroniero for being the unofficial welcome committee because no one else can be arsed to do it, and he's the type to end up doing all the shit no one wants to do, I think.
> 
> Aizen was weird to write and I still feel like he's OOC because it's just. How do I Aizen, I don't want to know.
> 
> I might write a follow-up that takes place either while they're all getting used to human bodies, or after Grimmjow loses the boys...hm.
> 
> (PS: who was the Arrancar who whipped Grimmjow's ass? IDK man, you tell me. Probably an Espada, though, since that's basically all there are right now...)


End file.
